The Letter

Bill found himself frozen with conflict as he stood right before the mailbox, wondering if he should send the letter.

When he had started writing the letter, there had been nothing in the world that could stop him. His emotions ran from confusion to depression to anger and everything in between. What else does one feel when finding out, accidentally through an unrelated third-party, that your whole life had been pretty much a lie? His parents weren't his biological parents, but actually his aunt and uncle. How does one keep that a secret for 24 years? More importantly, why keep it a secret that long?

"We didn't want you to worry about it," was the reply his mother gave.

"Your birth mother has her own life now and doesn't care to be bothered with us," said his father--his real mom's brother--with a heavy, venomous voice. "So we don't bother with her."

After a week or so of research, Bill had been able to find out more about her. She had given birth to Bill when she was just seventeen years old as the result of an relationship she was having with an in-and-out of jail drug addict almost ten years older than she. Though she originally wanted to keep her child, she could not (or refused to, whatever the case may be) give up her partying lifestyle. Her brother Ryan had just finished college with his degree in finance, and he and his fiancee Lillian somehow wound up taking care of the baby, as neither thought the child should suffer for his mother's actions.

Then, when Bill was just shy of his first birthday, his mother came home and announced that she was moving to New Mexico with some friends to open up a restaurant. Ryan asked her how she was going to support herself and the baby, and then the argument started, and one thing led to another and soon, Ryan and Lillian were Bill's legal guardians. His mother walked away and didn't look back.

So Bill grew up thinking his parents were his parents, and his sisters Rose and Sarah were his full-blooded relatives. That his parents cared for him and gave him every opportunity in the world that they could. Bill idolized his father so much that he even went into finance just like him, and is now up for his second promotion in three years with his company. His girlfriend Rachael moved in with him seven months ago, not only to be closer to the school she teaches fifth grade at, but also to see if this relationship is for the long haul.

Everything was great until this dropped on his head like a ton of bricks.

Which eventually led to this moment. After researching and tracking her down online, he was able to find his birth mother--Victoria Green. Still not married, it seems, or at least not currently. Living in Nevada now in a small town just north of Las Vegas. Not much else was listed, except for a mailing address.

Deciding to take a chance, Bill wrote to her. He started by saying who he was, and that he was hoping this was the right Victoria Green because he just found out within the last month or so who she was. He then laid into her. Why didn't she ever check up on him, how could she choose friends over him, does she ever think about him now? He mentioned that Ryan and Lillian were amazing parents to him, but he wanted to know what his birth mother was like. And, perhaps, could she write back?

It was a huge risk. This could be the wrong woman, or she wouldn't want to read it. She may be perfectly content not thinking about her first born son. But as Bill thought about it, the answer became clearer. He honestly didn't care if the letter made her uncomfortable. It should. She chose comfort over him more than twenty years ago, and now she needs to pay for her actions.

He pulled the door down, slid the letter in, and slammed the door shut again, raising the little red flag on the side.

Done.

Her Last Stop

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled.

Walking down the street, passing numerous people by as they hurried on with their lives, Mary found, for the first time ever in her thirty years of life, that she belonged. She could feel their energy in the air, giving her breathe. Now it seemed strange to her that she just sat in the background as a passive player. Just moving from one spot to the next in her family's list of goals for her. Go to school, get a boyfriend, get a parent-approved job, get married, retire from said job to become a stay-at-home mother to three little boys, grow old and die. To be fair, it isn't like Mary didn't want those things; well, at least some of those things. But, in the long run, this path wasn't what was making her happy.

If there was anything she could thank Roger for, it was that he opened her eyes to that.

Mary reached her destination. She looked up at the old brick building with metal bars over the windows. The freshly painted "David's Pawn Shop" on white wood with large blue letters was a nice touch, though. She thought it gave the place a nice touch. Taking in a deep breath as she smiled widely, she pushed the door open.

The sound of a bell was heard as she made her way in, looking at all the objects that surrounded her. Everything was nice and neat on beautiful dark wood shelves, though a bit disorganized in the manner of their layout. Computers, games, tvs, tools, blu-ray players...you named it, it was probably somewhere in this store. Focusing her attention forward, Mary saw an older man, somewhere in his mid-sixties, standing behind a counter that had a protective fence around it. He was a rounder sort of fellow, with a large smile and happy green eyes. His hair was nearly gone, and the clothes he wore were a bit outdated, but that didn't seem to matter much to Mary. Returning his smile, Mary walked up to the counter.

"Well, hello, miss! What can I help you with today?' the man cheerfully asked.

"I was wondering how much I could get for this?" Mary replied. Carefully she pulled the box out of her pocket. It was a small black box, velvety to the touch. Opening it up revealed a beautiful solitary diamond ring, set in a beautiful gold band.

"Oh, my! What a beautiful piece you have! You sure you want to pawn it off?"

"I'm actually looking to sell it outright," she said.

The man nodded his head slowly. "Ah, I get it. I get more of this than I care to admit. What the bastard do, cheat on you?"

Mary shook her head. "No, Rodger is too straight-laced for that. He tried to stop me from my dream."

"Tsk! Stupid fool, letting someone like you get away. Your face reminds me of my wife's....back when she was a few decades younger and a couple of pounds lighter!" he laughed at his own joke. "But selling, heh? I can get you a bit of a higher price for that then. Let me take a look at it so I can appraise it properly."

Mary slid the box through the hole in the gate so the man could examine the ring. He took out a eyeglass to see every little mark on it.

"So, what did he try to stop you from doing?" the pawn-man asked, still focused on the ring.

"Moving to Chicago. I worked as a editor for the local branch of Yesterday magazine. Our graphic designer suddenly quit on us one day, and I was the only one who knew anything about it, so I took over about seven months ago. One of the higher ups saw my work, really liked it, and wants me to move to the national branch."

"Now that sounds like an adventure! And your fiance didn't want to move?"

"More like he didn't want me to advance. He believed a higher position would make it harder for me to want to quit working when I have kids."

"Old fashion type, huh?"

"You have no idea."

The pawn broker pulled his attention away from the ring. "I'll never understand people like that. Even when I was younger, I liked a woman in charge. Knew what she was doing. My wife Lisa basically runs the entire Downtown branch of Country Bank. Gotta hand it to her, she is a woman who knows what she wants." He smiled a happy smile at that, thinking about his wife. Though she didn't know him at all, Mary was glad to know he was in such a caring relationship. "But you didn't come here to listen to me talk about her! Let's see what I can do you for."

He pulled out a faded pad of yellow paper and a classic number 2 pencil. He jot down a number and slid it under the opening. Mary gently picked up the pad, looked at the number, and nodded.

"This should be fine," she smiled.

"Really? No haggling?"

"I'm afraid I don't have much time for that," Mary replied. "I leave for Chicago at three today, so I need to head to the airport once I'm done here. And the amount you suggested is more than enough to cover me a month's rent at my new place. It's not so much the money I want, but the freedom."

The man nodded. "Very well then, miss, I'll go get your money."

He disappeared to the back room for a few minutes before returning with a large amount of cash. He carefully and professionally counted out the agreed amount before her and slid it to her.

"I hope you have a good time in Chicago, miss," he said. "Just look after yourself. A big city like that can be dangerous to a new person, especially a young woman."

"Thank you for your concern," Mary warmly smiled. "And I will."

She put the money in her wallet and walked out the door, making the bell ring once again. Stepping outside, she knew that there was nothing tying her down anymore, and she was ready to fly.

Anything Could Happen

The Siege of Aisnyria was finally coming to a end. For nearly three months, the knights and army of Aisnyria defended their city with bravery and courage against the invading Ravyenwod forces. The leader of the Ravyenwod  army, Lord Whittier, looked down from his outpost for many a day at the fortress-town that laid before him, silently cursing the thick, stone walls that blocked his path to power. But slowly, those harsh words turned to a sly smile. The walls were becoming weak, and more importantly, the Aisnyria forces were losing morale. Supplies routes had long been cut off, and with that, more and more people each day were fleeing their war-ravaged homes. Instead, the refuges looked to their invaders for help and support.

That was what grieved General David Stryker so much. To see the people he swore to protect abandon him for his enemies was too much for his heart to hold. Still, there was a small glimmer of hope. At the age of 47, Furnner had seen many battles during his career, and if there was any single lesson he could take away from them, it was anything could happen in a moment's notice. No one could be too prepared for anything, or be surprised at what may occur.

It was because of this knowledge that Stryker was not as startled as his enemies would have preferred when they ambushed him late one night in the dense Forest of Quint just north of the city's walls. Furnner decided to lead a small group of his men through the woods to try to spy on Lord Whittier's tent. The band of five men were outnumbered more than three-to-one, and the situation was grim.

"General Stryker," a tall, broad man said, his voice tired but still strong enough to demand respect. "Fancy meeting you here."

"General Dryke," Stryker nodded in respect, but said nothing more.

"What are you men doing out here?" Dryke asked, slowly circling the group like a buzzard looking at its next meal.

"I should be asking you that question, sir," Stryker said, eyes straight forward. "This forest falls under the jurisdiction of my Lord Ammard."

"Does it?" smirked Dryke. "Your forces can't hold us back much longer. Your people are begging us to take them in. Seems to me they love Lord Whitter more than Lord Ammard. And who can blame them, really; that old man can barely keep his city standing anymore."

"The people of Aisnyria do not go down without a fight."

"Their actions haven't proved that, but perhaps yours will. Gentlemen--attack."

The Ravyenwod forces moved forward in unison while Aisnyria raised their swords in defense. The sound of clanging metal echoed through the night sky, accented by the yells of pain and agony as men honorably fell from battle. Stryker was proud of his men, standing as long as they did and even taking down a few of the Ravyenwod forces. But it was not enough, and soon, he was the last of the troupe.

"Any last words, General?" mocked Dryke.

"Actions speak louder than words, Dryke. So thank you for letting me speak."

The general rushed forward towards the remaining Ravyenwod men, sword firmly gripped in both of his hands.

In battle, anything could happen in a moment's notice. But, more often than know, the most likely event occurs; this was the case with General David Styker's last fight.

You Know Nothing--Sailormoon Fic

Sailor Venus stood behind one of the numerous pillars that decorated the palace grounds of the Silver Millennium, carefully watching her beloved princess. The guardian rolled her eyes and sighed as she pondered if Serenity really thought she was fooling anyone with her escape attempts. For years, Venus and the other soldiers have trained to protect the heir of the Silver Millennium, to keep her from harm and to maintain the peace of the kingdom. Did Serenity really think she was pulling the wool over anyone's eyes by fake coughing?

The worst of it was that Serenity was being much more bold in her actions. It seemed like everyday the young woman would try to sneak down to planet Earth.  And who had to follow her every time? Venus. Who else could do the job? Mercury was level-headed but if something happened to Serenity on Earth and Mercury's negotiating skills failed her, things would go from bad to worse in a heartbeat. Jupiter could take care of any physical obsticals, but she could also be very blunt in a political setting. And Mars? Mars would just bite Serenity's head off.

No. This needed someone with a wide variety of skills. One who knew Serenity better then she herself. A leader. So Venus waited by the pillar, waiting to strike the expecting princess. Sure enough, Serenity walked right by her guardian, twirling and dancing, completely lost on cloud nine.

Venus grabbed one of the princess' long pony tale and yanked, scaring Serenity so much that she skipped a couple of heartbeats as she screamed, her voice echoing off the clear dome wall of the Silver Millennium.

"Serenity! You're not sneaking off to Earth again, are you?" Venus demanded, already knowing full well the answer.

"Venus! You shouldn't scare me like that! It's not very nice!"

"You didn't answer my question."

Serenity blushed. "Well, you see, I was going to go to my lessons, but I thought it was too nice of a day for that, and...."

"Aaand you thought you would go take a stroll on one of the gardens of Earth?" Venus asked, eyebrow raised. She signed and dropped her princess' hair. "Serenity! How many times do we have to have this discussion? You are the Moon Princess, heir to the Silver Millennium. People like us...we're not supposed to be in contact with earthlings. It's forbidden. I can't keep following you down there; it's much too dangerous! I'm honestly surprised--and thankful!--that no one has turned you, or us, in yet."

"But it's not fair!" pouted Serenity. "The people of Earth are good and kind, and just like us! I don't see why we can't get along."

"It's not  us who stand in the way," Venus comforted. "We have tried many times over the centuries to reunite that gap. They're jealous of our lifespans, and that the Moon kingdom is the keeper of the Imperial Silver Crystal. They're power-hungry, my princess, and you of all people must be careful not to let that amount of power fall in the wrong hands."

Serenity's eyes turned harsh as she locked onto Venus'. "They're not all like that," she argued, sounding serious for once in her life.

"I know," smiled Venus, though she was broken-hearted. "I've seen the way you look at Endymion, Serenity. You can't hide that from the goddess of love. But you have to know that it simply cannot be."

Serenity back away, almost violently. Eyes filled with tears, she looked defiantly at Venus, her most trusted guardian and friend.

"You know nothing of love!" she cried out, making a child-like face in her, trying to mock Venus, before she turned around and ran off again, along her merry way.

Those words stung Venus like nothing else had at that point. Know nothing of love? Was Serenity that blind? What did the princess think Venus talked about when she was conversing with Endymion's right hand man, Kunzite? Sure, at first, it was completely all business as they tried to figure out the best way to keep the two love-birds from meeting. When that failed miserably, they moved on how to minimize the damage.

As Serenity and Endymion's meetings grew longer and longer, Kunzite and Venus needed more things to discuss. It was very boring standing there in silence for so long, though both of them were used to it. That was the first thing she admired about him. He was such a great warrior and protector. Kunzite knew exactly what Venus experienced, and they could rant to one another, and well as encourage--which was surprising, seeing how they were supposed to be enemies. It was a fact Venus always kept in her mind, but still, other things tended to push that to the back. Like how handsome he was, or how he made her laugh, or how he actually comforted her one night as she broke down, wondering if she was doing a good job as leader.

What Venus never forgot though, was that she made a pledge: one to make sure Princess Serenity was her top priority. While the princess would have been more than happy to rejoice in her friend's happiness, Venus knew deep down that she could never balance the two. And so, every time Venus traveled down to Earth to watch over Serenity, she had to be not only on the top of her game, but also be a fantastic actress, to make sure Kunzite never found out.

And it was getting increasingly difficult.

"Oh, Serenity," Venus sighed softly, watching the Moon Princess take off. "You know nothing." She brushed her long hair to her back and just followed after her, ready to perform her duty at all cost.

My Life

I was eight years old when my mother died. It was a very sad time for me, and I had no one to talk to, for my father was away and my two older brothers wanted nothing to do with me. I can't blame them--what would two teenage boys on the spring of adulthood want with a small girl? So I locked myself away, just trying to stay out of everyone's way.

The following winter, Father returned home, and he brought with him a new wife--a new mother. She was much younger than him, but her face was stern. Her stares matched perfectly with the icy blue color of her eyes. Her thick, brown hair was always styled up in a perfect bun, styled with some lace and a beautiful gold pin. I remember that pin the most. Looking back, it was rather silly of me to covet it so much; it was rather plain, and probably not worth as much as my girlish mind figured it would be, yet it still held my attention.

Mama Marie came from the northern part of the country, and her father and mine had been business partners for many years. Marie was just what Father was looking for; a young, healthy woman who would not stand for any mischief or trouble-making in her household, especially from me. I needed to become a proper young lady, after all, and Mama Marie was the only one around who could teach me.

No infraction was too small for her. My dress tied unevenly? Sweep the kitchen. My hair not brushed enough to her liking? Mop the dining hall. Caught eating between meals without permission? Clean the fireplace.

And the older I got, the worse the punishments came. I can count a handful of times where I was up before sunrise and back in bed long past midnight because of the  list of chores she wanted me to complete. There was no one there to rescue me, what with my Father away on business all the time and my brothers now fully-grown and running households of their own. No, it was just me and her, and she made damn sure that she would always reign. Was she jealous of me and my youth? Or was she just a spiteful woman who had no love in her heart? Who can say, really. I just knew one thing for certain--I hated her.

Still, though, it is because of her that my first husband noticed me. He was a distant cousin of hers who had come to a Yuletide party Mama Marie and Father were holding. Pierre wasn't a handsome man by any account, but he was a good enough man with more than enough wealth and titles to make a young woman happy. More importantly, he was a way to escape the clutches of my stepmother. That night, I used everything Mama Marie taught me. How to properly dress, how to make an entrance, how to dance--I did everything flawlessly. I was the talk of the ball that night, and no one, not even Mama Marie, could take that from me.

Pierre didn't leave right away that night, and wound up spending over a week at our estate, spending most of his time to get to know me. A perfect courtship it was. Father couldn't have been happier, as he was finally getting rid of his last child. Mama Marie...I honestly don't know how she felt about the match. She kept silent and just gave her infamous straight-line "smile," if you could call it that.

Our wedding took place that following spring. The church was filled with violets and baby breath, and the air smelled of the dozen or so different pastries that were being baked for the reception. Pierre never looked happier, and I was happy to be free--free from chores, free to run my own house, and most importantly, free from Mama Marie.

My life with Pierre went as these things usually go. I moved in, we settled, fell out of first love but still liked each other enough that the arrangement wasn't bad. He was a good starter husband, I will give him that. Besides, he gave me my two beautiful daughters. Who could ask for more?

Then again, he did have the bad luck to catch that dreadful fever. He was in bed for almost two months before he passed. Bless his soul--he deserved better than that, I must admit. Crush my girls' heart to watch their father die like that.

I guess that's something you have in common with them, then.

Your father and I...well! We just happened to meet by chance one day as I was taking my girls for a walk along the promenade. They needed the fresh air and I needed a chance to think. I didn't want to stay at that mansion anymore. Mama Marie felt that, as Pierre was her relative, it was up to her to check up on me and my daughters. She would come by unannounced, make outrageous demands I was not prepared to make, and scold me for how I was raising the girls. I had to find another way out. Someone father away and not related in any sort to her.

I first noticed your father as he sat at a small cafe, smiling sadly to himself. "Your daughters are charming," he said to me. "They make me miss mine back home." I thanked him and next thing I knew, the girls had run to some store, eying the latest toys from Paris in the window, and your father and I were having a lovely chat. We kept running into him during our walks, and soon I invited him to tea one day. And then he kept coming and coming.

He always talked about you. You were his everything. "Your daughters would be perfect playmates for my Cinderella. I am sure of this!" he constantly told me. But I knew what was going through his mind of his. He wasn't looking for a wife for himself--no, he was the sort of man where only one woman could ever hold his heart like that. No, he was looking for a mother for you. He wanted to use me just like Mama Marie used me. And it infuriated me. Nevertheless, I kept having him over. There was something unmistakeably charasmatic about him that made it difficult to push him away.

I said yes when he proposed, mostly so I could get out of the watchful, glaring, disapproving eyes of Mama Marie. The ceremony was small, and I packed up all of the belongings and moved here.

Unfortunate that the riding accident happened so soon after the wedding. We barely made it a year. Pity.

But now, you see, my dear Cinderella, I had a small problem. I do not want my girls to ever experience what I did. They are lovely girls who deserve to live in a life of luxury, and never lift a finger. I am certainly not going back to that life. What nonsense! A woman of my age and rank cleaning fireplaces in her free time? Pish-posh!

But you, Cinderella. You will do this. You have to do this. Who else is going to take in an orphan like you? You work to stay here. That's the deal. We may be nobles, but money does run out, and we have to keep to a tight budget. So keep your pretty little head up high. I'm not planning on keeping you here forever.

Just until my girls are married off. Then we can deal with you.

It's quite alright. No need to thank me. Thank Mama Marie. After all, you're not the only one with a "wicked" stepmother.